


Party Monster

by lordsanga



Category: Cricket RPF
Genre: M/M, always grindr, and grindr, drunken fumbles, on lion cub tours, some sexuality confusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-03 05:35:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13334562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordsanga/pseuds/lordsanga
Summary: Sam gives him a grin, and pats the bed beside him. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”





	Party Monster

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jiminyneesham](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jiminyneesham/gifts).



> You know. Boys, sexuality, being youthful idiots. I am nothing if not consistent in my themes. Shout out to [awkwardsorta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardsorta/pseuds/awkwardsorta) for the speedy beta and [CrookedRain](http://archiveofourown.org/users/OurFontIsBigger/pseuds/CrookedRain_CrookedRain) for catching the (oops, gasps, horror) Americanisms. Love you two <3\. 
> 
> Title is a Weeknd song, mostly because it is past 1 a.m., friends.

The South Africans invite them out after their last game, which is generous of them considering the near whitewash, and most of Sam’s Lions teammates go. It’s a cramped student bar in downtown Benoni, with a flashing dance floor and dangerously cheap drinks. You can feel the music more than you can hear it, reverberating through the walls, and they’re soon all lost in a sea of sweaty bodies and laughing students and the heady smell of cigarettes.

It doesn’t take much past midnight for Ballance and Roy to find Sam in the crowd, however, and try to convince him to do a shot, nearly knocking over half the bar as they drag him to it and shove two tiny glasses of tequila into Sam’s hands.

“Double fist it,” Jason encourages, and when Sam looks, he has a knowing twinkle in his eye.

“Fuck off,” Sam laughs, and Gary puts a heavy hand on him, shaking his shoulder. Sam consents to one of the shots, wincing and shaking his head at the sharp burn, Jason attempting to force a piece of lime into his mouth. “Do the other one,” he tells Jason, and Jason’s shaking his head. Sam grins, advancing towards him. Jason tries to play-wrestle him off, spilling half the alcohol in the process.

“Look at you two cunts,” Ben says, grinning as he makes his way past them to the bar. “You’re wearing matching white shirts and all, you look like a right pair of knobs.” He has a cigarette in his mouth, and offers them the pack; Sam shakes his head, and Jason lets his hand slide off Sam, taking one and grinning.

“At least we don’t dress like plebs,” Jason says, and Ben scoffs. “Original.”

“Anyway, they’re not the same shirts,” Jason continues, over Ben. “I’m not the Ralph Lauren wanker,” he adds, and it makes Sam tell him to fuck off again, still laughing, nearly knocking the cigarette out of Jason’s mouth when he pushes at him.

“Please don’t start a fire,” Jason tells him, with mock dignity.

“You’re children,” Ben tells them, which is rich, but Jason’s dragging Sam back to the bar to buy another round before he can point it out.

 

 

By two a.m. they’re separated again. Sam goes to the toilets, and when he’s made his way back to the dancefloor among the students grinding to Ellie Goulding, Craig’s nowhere to be spotted. Some of the South Africa boys are still there, at a distance, Rabada and de Kock among a group of girls, and in the corner he can spot Gary with Adam, Adam gesturing like he’s wildly imploring him not to take his top off., but he can’t see anybody else. He’s about to give up and pull out his phone for an uber when someone puts an arm around him. He turns back around and smiles widely when he sees it’s Jason. Jason’s body is cold against him, and he smells of smoke.

“Alright?” he asks Sam, and he looks oddly flushed and unfocused. He runs his hand through his hair and shakes it off though, giving Sam a quick grin that looks about as drunk as Sam feels.

“You’re so smashed,” Sam nudges him. “Thought you had left,” he adds, with a little mock pout.

“Wouldn’t leave without you,” Jason coos, and Sam laughs off the kissing face, pushing at him.

“Want to head back?” Sam asks, tilting his head towards the door. “I’m going to throw up if I drink anymore, and our flight’s at eleven tomorrow.” 

“Goody goody,” Jason teases him, but he agrees easily, looking around the bar and putting an arm back around Sam. “Looks like most of the boys have gone home anyway.” He looks around again, skittishly, but Sam’s too drunk to be confused about it, grabbing Jason’s arm and tugging him outside.

“You’re a bad influence,” he tuts at Jason, pulling him out through the back door. The night is cool, almost chilly, and Sam pulls out his phone for the cab. The screen lights up, briefly, cheerfully, to greet him, before it goes black; Sam jabs at it two times in optimistic frustration, then he shakes his head, nodding at Jason.

“It’s dead,” he tells Jason, who’s got his own phone out. “Gimme yours,” he says, and holds a hand out.

“Fuck off,” Jason says, and Sam grins, because it’s their usual banter. He grabs at his phone, more a playful move than anything else, but Jason’s reaction is quick, always stronger than he realises, wrestling Sam’s hand off. Sam manages to prise the phone out of his grip; he presses the home button as soon as he does, but in the split second before the menu returns, he catches an unmistakable chat window: blue and yellow bubbles, a black background, the tiniest peek of skin in the corner. He can’t make out the word, but he barely has to. In his surprise, his grip on the phone slackens, and Jason’s pulled it back from him, his face bright red even in the dim street lights when Sam looks up at him.

“Idiot—” he starts, at the same time Sam says, eyes still wide, “I didn’t mean—.”

Jason’s quickly thumbing at his phone, and Sam puts his hands in his pockets, face flushed too.

“I wasn’t trying to look – didn’t know you were having a private conversation.”

“I’m calling an Uber,” Jason mumbles, to his phone, not looking up.

 

 

They don’t speak through the wait for the taxi, and in the ride home all Jason says out loud is, “on the right” and, “thank you” to the driver. It’s only when they’re back in Sam’s room that he dares to speak, as Jason pours both of them a glass of water, handing it to Sam on the edge of his bed.

“I wasn’t trying to snoop,” Sam starts, and Jason replies, quickly, “No – it’s okay. I know.”

“I—,” Sam stops. “Um.”

Jason’s flush has returned, and he tips his head back, chugging his water like he’s back in the bar. Sam keeps his gaze on him, and Jason finally returns it when he can’t hide behind his empty glass, setting it on the counter.

“Was that—” Sam starts, and Jason says “Hm?”

It’s Sam’s turn to look away, staring at his glass.

“Sorry, I had to ask,” Sam says. “Are you, um—” he tries, and then pauses. “Was that – uh – Grindr?”

Jason gets redder, and he rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he says, finally. “I occasionally— I'm sometimes —” he starts, hesitantly, then gives up, with a shrug. “Yeah.”

Something still doesn’t click in Sam’s brain, and he’s quiet for a while. “Like,” he says, “Like as a joke? Or—” Sam and Jason look at each other, and Sam feels his brain a bit dulled by the alcohol, no real control over his words. “I didn’t know you were bi.”

“I’m not –” Jason says, immediately. “I’m—” he starts, and then stops. “I’m not.”

When Jason doesn’t follow up, Sam frowns. “You’re gay?”

“No!” Jason cries out, and Sam raises his eyebrows at the instant disagreement, tensing. Jason looks at him and immediately adds. “Not that there’s anything wrong with – no – sorry.”

Jason looks a bit helpless, and Sam waits.

“It isn’t a big deal,” Jason says, finally. He groans and tips his head back, rubbing his face. “Sorry. I just—”

“You—”

“I go on Grindr sometimes,” Jason says. “I’ve slept with a few guys. It isn’t a complicated story, sorry.”

“Oh right,” Sam says, and it still doesn’t add up.

“I don’t really think I’m bi,” Jason says, and he shifts the weight on his feet, looking at Sam. “I don’t – I don’t date men or anything.” Sam scans his face, and Jason shrugs. “It’s weird taking that label when I don’t – I just.”

“You just?”

“It’s just – I’m just casual when it comes to sex.” Jason shrugs again. “That’s all. It doesn’t – it doesn’t mean anything.”

Sam thinks he still has a bemused expression on his face, because it’s Jason’s turn to look defensive at him now, folding his arms. He nudges Sam with his toe, and asks him, “What?” his voice a bit plaintive, and Sam shakes his head. There’s an argument here that he feels too filled with alcohol and good spirits to have, and that he can’t quite articulate to himself. They stare at each other, in silence, until Sam reaches out a hand, and Jason looks at it, confused.

“So can I see?”

Jason pauses, like that was the last thing that he expected. “What?”

“Your Grindr,” Sam says, and Jason stares. Sam gives him a grin.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

 

 

Jason decides they need to keep drinking, and they raid the minibar. Soon they’re crowded on Sam’s bed, and Sam’s scrolling through Jason’s Grindr, giggling to himself. Jason looks half amused, and half like he’s going to snatch the phone away from him at any moment, between indulgent and embarrassed, as Sam scrolls through his profile.

“Nice abs, boy,” he says, whistling at one of the photos. “Nice tatts shot.” Sam swipes his thumb again and starts laughing when the next picture is of Jason touching himself through his jeans, and Jason curses, trying to wrest the phone away from him.

“Give it back –“ Sam grunts, trying to hang on to it. “This is good stuff— I’m going to save these for later.”

“Didn’t need that information,” Jason rolls his eyes, putting his phone down beside him. “What you get off to is your own business.”

Sam laughs loudly at that, and nudges Jason’s shoulder. “Tell me the truth,” he says, and Jason looks at him. “Is there a dick shot in there?”

Jason rolls his eyes and it sets Sam off again. He puts a hand on Sam’s face and Sam tries to push him off, grabbing on to Jason’s arm, playfully wrestling him on the bed.

“If you want to see it so much you can just _ask_ , Bilbo—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Sam rolls his eyes, as Jason pushes himself to sit on his knees, facing Sam. He looks at Sam as he reaches for his own jeans, unbuttoning them, and Sam starts laughing again, pushing at him. “Oh fuck off, you pervert—”

Jason grins at him, but doesn’t zip up his jeans, settling back next to Sam. Sam averts his gaze from Jason, nodding instead at the phone beside Jason on the bed, and steadily ignoring the little twist at the base of his tummy, no doubt an effect of the alcohol.

“I’ll have to get in line behind the 500 unread messages on your account, though,” he says, and Jason shakes his head.

“I told you,” he mumbles, glancing at the phone and then back at Sam. “I don’t really use it that much.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sam asks, and his voice is softer than it was earlier. “You knew I was gay, so.”

Jason makes a face. “Felt a bit weird, really.” When Sam looks at him, he shrugs. “I’m not – like what would I say?” he mumbles. “I don’t want to date men. When you talk about stuff like – like you know – being afraid to come out in the changing rooms or – going on a date or something –“ Jason looks at him. “Dunno. Felt a bit weird to say hey, I get it too, sometimes I meet men online and like to fuck them.”

Sam considers a bit, and then shrugs his shoulders. “Fair enough, I suppose,” he concedes.

Jason looks at him, and then nods towards Sam’s phone. “Show me yours, now,” he says, and gives him a grin. “Tell me if I’m doing it right.”

Sam hands him his phone, after a bit of resistance, and Jason laughs as soon as he sees his profile. “Nice abs yourself, mate. Bit pale here, though, I reckon.”

Sam tells him to go suck one, but Jason ignores it, flipping to Sam’s messages. “You’re pretty cute yourself, Adam!” he reads out loud, imitating Sam’s accent, booming his voice out loud and enunciating the words slowly. “Smiley face!” he adds, cheerfully.  Sam tries to slap his hand over Jason’s face, covering his eyes, and Jason dodges, laughing. “Aw, and then you ghosted him asking you out. What’s wrong?” Jason says, flipping to the next message. “He was cute.”

“Just went on tour,” Sam says airily, then out of the corner of his eye catches the next message Jason is reading. His eyes widen, and he says quickly, “Don’t—” but it’s too late, and Jason’s whistling at the phone, staring and laughing incredulously.

“Fuck –“ Sam says, and it’s his turn to dive over this time, desperately.  “Don’t look at that one –” he cries out, swinging wildly as Jason holds the phone out from him. “Fuck, don’t—” he climbs over Jason in an attempt to reach his hand, and Jason sits up, causing Sam to almost topple off him and the bed. Sam grabs on to Jason’s shirt for purchase, nearly taking him down with him, and Jason wraps an arm around Sam to save them both. They’re breathless by the end, tangled up on the bed, and they struggle some more; finally, Jason manages to flip them over, Sam underneath him, always the stronger one, pinning Sam under his thighs and raising his phone back to his face triumphantly.

“If you came over,” Jason starts reading from it, and his voice is lowered, to sound sexy, or an attempt to approximate it. “I’d let you go down on me – I’d let you wrap your lips around my di—” Jason scrolls down further, and then suddenly stops. His cheeks go red, and his eyes widen at the screen, and the distraction makes Sam swipe for the phone, taking it and tossing it to the edge of the bed.

“Er—“ he says, and Sam swallows a little bit.

“Vice versa to you,” Sam says, flushed, and Jason raises his eyebrow. “If you really wanted to see my dick, you could have just asked.”

Sam means it as a joke, but it doesn’t quite come out as one. He’s suddenly very aware of the weight of Jason’s  thighs pinning him down, and the fact that his jeans are still unbuttoned. He tries not to peek, or note how Jason shifts his hips down a little bit on Sam’s, causing something at the base of his belly to twist uncomfortably. His voice is a bit breathless, and when he catches Jason’s gaze, Jason doesn’t look as playful as he just did either, eyes on him.

“Yeah?” he says, and his voice comes out a bit funny.

Sam feels himself nodding, hearing himself talk without quite registering what he’s saying – focusing instead on Jason. Jason’s shirt is half unbuttoned, his tattoos peeking out on his chest, the sleeves rolled up his arms. It falls well on him, and Sam tries not to think of the picture of the abs he just saw underneath it. “Yeah,” he says, and his eyes trail back up to Jason’s face. “You know – didn’t need to go on Grindr tonight if you were looking to get off.”

“Right,” Jason says, and he looks at Sam searchingly.

“You knew I – played on the same team—”

“What—” Jason says, and then he gets it. “Oh—”

They both look at each other, weighing, considering. The alcohol’s done something to Sam’s body, feeling his head spin a bit and feeling buzzy all over, warm and wanting. The voice in his head asking him what the fuck he’s doing gets quieter and quieter, shutting up when Jason presses his hips down on him again, and Sam gasps at the sudden contact with his dick, biting his lip and closing his eyes, briefly. When he opens them, Jason is staring at him.

“What?” he says, and Jason whispers. “Make that sound again.”

Sam opens his mouth to protest when Jason grinds down on him this time, and it makes Sam moan in surprise. The look on Jason’s face this time when Sam lifts his head makes Sam’s cock twitch in his jeans, and they meet each other’s eyes.

“Fuck,” Sam whispers. His lips are parted, and Jason takes less than a mental count of two before he leans down and presses his lips to Sam’s.

 

Jason tastes like jaeger and cigarettes but he’s a good kisser, even drunk as he is. His body is a heavy, warm weight fallen on Sam’s, and Sam gets his legs wrapped around him, grabbing at the back of his shirt and tugging it up.

“Fuck,” Jason whispers, against him, and his voice is full of want. It makes Sam tug at his shirt, even harder, and Jason chuckles breathlessly against his neck.

“Easy,” he whispers, “I know it’s not Ralph Lauren, but it’s a nice shirt mate—”

“Fuck off,” Sam laughs, “Fuck – get it off—”

If there’s something strange about seeing your best friend topless, Sam’s dick doesn’t seem to register it. Jason gets his shirt off, and his jeans too, and Sam bites his lip when he looks at him, eyes trailing down his body.

“What,” Jason says, but then Sam’s lips are at his tummy, and it makes his breath hitch. “Oh—”

Sam doesn’t say anything at that, letting his tongue trail a steady line down. He looks at Jason, just briefly, when he tugs his boxers down, but it makes them both flush, and Sam looks away. He wets his lips, nervously, and closes his eyes, moving in. 

“Oh my fucking god,” Jason whispers, and grabs his hair, as Sam makes a choked noise against his dick.    

 

 

Jason gets Sam a towel after. Sam’s starting to feel the weight of the alcohol and the orgasm press on his head, eyelids heavy when he closes his eyes to make the room spin a little less. Jason shuffles about a bit, and Sam registers through his closed eyelids the lights of the room being turned off. He hears footsteps come towards him, and feels a dent in the bed as Jason gets in beside him.

“Can’t be arsed to go to my bed,” Jason mumbles by way of explanation, sounding as exhausted as Sam feels. He throws a heavy arm around Sam, and the weight is warm and comforting, pinning Sam down.

“Oh,” he mutters back, keeping his eyes closed, “You’re a cuddler.”

“Shut up,” Jason mumbles. “For warmth.”

Sam doesn’t have anything left in him to do more than make a small noise of acknowledgement at Jason’s words, letting the pleasant release of sleep carry him off.

“Sam,” Jason says, after a pause, and Sam groans, displeased at being disturbed. “This isn’t – this isn’t going to be weird, right?”

“You said it yourself, mate,” Sam says, half in his sleep, already drifting. “It’s no big deal, it’s just sex with guys.”

“Right,” Jason says, quietly beside him. Sam shifts to his side on the bed, curling up, and he’s mostly drifted off as Jason repeats quietly to himself, “It’s just sex with a guy.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [Here](https://www.instagram.com/p/ywNocTN0DI/?hl=en&taken-by=jasonroy20) and [here](https://www.instagram.com/p/yT2rMGsWjR/?hl=en&taken-by=sambillings) are photos of the night/tour in question, complete with white shirts, on a February 2015 Lions tour. I am nothing if not canonical in a nonsense drunken hook up fic.


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